Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO
Chapter 87: Coitus Interruptus

Chapter 87: Coitus Interruptus

The world came back in fragments—the hum of an engine, the scent of leather, the steady pressure of Leo’s thigh pressed against mine as the SUV barreled down winding backroads.

I groaned, shifting in the seat, and immediately regretted it. A sharp ache radiated from my side, hot and insistent.

"Stop moving," Leo muttered, his hand clamping down on my shoulder to keep me still. His grip was firm, but his thumb brushed absently against my collarbone, a quiet reassurance.

"Where are we going?" I rasped.

Charles, hunched over the wheel with his usual reckless precision, flicked a glance at me in the rearview mirror. "Your mom directed us to the King mountain cabin."

I blinked. Then blinked again.

Oh no.

"Uh." I winced. "Small problem."

Leo’s gaze sharpened. "What?"

"I might have... loaned it out."

Silence.

Charles exhaled slowly. "To who."

"Vanessa."

"Vanessa Belmont-Jang. Chaos queen? That Vanessa?"

"And Nathan," I added helpfully. "For their honeymoon."

Leo pinched the bridge of his nose, as if praying for patience. "Vanessa is going to kill us," he muttered.

"She’ll kill you" I said to Leo. "She loves me."

Charles barked a laugh.

The cabin was nestled deep in the mountains, accessible only by a narrow, winding road that Charles took at speeds that should have sent us to the great Gucci in the Sky. By the time we skidded to a stop in the gravel driveway, my stomach was in my throat, and Leo looked like he was contemplating murder.

The place was picturesque—wooden beams, a wraparound porch, smoke curling from the chimney. Cozy. Romantic.

Awkward.

"Alright," I said, forcing cheer into my voice. "Let’s just... explain the situation. Vanessa’s reasonable."

Leo shot me a look. "You are such a liar."

Charles was already striding up the porch steps. He didn’t bother knocking—just threw the door open.

The scene inside was straight out of a honeymoon cliché.

Vanessa Belmont-Jang—dressed in nothing but one of Nathan’s button-downs—was straddling her husband on the couch, her fingers tangled in his hair. Nathan, to his credit, managed to look both blissfully distracted and mildly alarmed as the door slammed open.

Silence.

Then—

Vanessa’s head whipped toward us. Her eyes narrowed.

"Oliver?"

I raised a hand in a weak wave. "Surprise?"

Nathan groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. "You have the worst timing."

"We’re being shot at," I offered.

Vanessa didn’t move from Nathan’s lap. "With bullets?"

"No, with daisies," said Leo, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, there’s such a thing as arrows," she said. "There’s plenty of things that can be shot at you. Including this." She flipped him the bird.

"Mature," I said.

"Says the man who helped me ruin my own engagement party."

"And Christmas last year," I said. "Don’t forget that unfortunate tree-tipping event."

"Who could?"

Charles was already making himself at home, flopping into an armchair. "Don’t mind us. Pretend we’re not here."

Vanessa finally climbed off her husband, yanking the hem of the shirt down with a huff. "You’re bleeding, Ollie."

I glanced down. "Yeah. That’s been happening a lot tonight."

Nathan got off the couch and buttoned his jeans. He walked past his wife and headed toward the kitchen. "I’ll get the first aid kit."

"Who’s trying to kill you this time?"

"How many people have tried to kill you?" asked Leo.

"His mom," said Vanessa. "For avoiding blind dates."

"Her," I said jerking my thumb at my bestie.

"Oh, that guy at the bar after you threw your drink in his face."

"He said my outfit was last season. He was a monster."

"Me," said Nathan walking in with a large silver box. "He interrupted my honeymoon."

"This time it’s Uncle Richard."

"Ugh." She made a face. "Him."

Nathan stood, adjusting his rumpled shirt with a sigh. "I’ll put on coffee."

"You’re a saint," Charles called after him.

Vanessa stalked over to me, poking my injured side hard enough to make me yelp. "If you die during my honeymoon, I will take scissors to your entire closet and make sure Mrs. King buries you in ... in an off-the-rack suit from a no-brand store!"

"You wouldn’t!"

"Try me."

Leo opened the first aid kit. "Sit down, Oliver."

Nathan handed her a mug of coffee, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Caffiene," he said. He pressed a foil-wrapped candy into her other hand. "And chocolate."

"You’re the best husband ever."

Leo focused entirely on peeling back my bloodied bandages with a gentleness that belied the storm in his eyes. _{f|ree(w)ebn\o.vel.com}

Vanessa watched us for a long moment before sighing. "I’ll make noodles. Spicy noodles."

Leo worked in silence, his fingers deft as they cleaned the wound at my side. His jaw was set, tension radiating off him in waves. I knew that look—he was calculating, running through every possible scenario, every exit strategy. Usually that was his boardroom look. You know what? He was handy dandy in an emergency.

Vanessa, meanwhile, had commandeered the kitchen. Nathan leaned against the counter beside her, sipping his coffee, entirely unbothered.

Charles looked relaxed as he flipped through a magazine he’d found on the coffee table.

"Really?" I said, nodding toward it.

He didn’t look up. "Vogue."

Leo pressed a fresh bandage a little too firmly against my side, and I hissed. "Ow."

"Stop moving," he muttered.

Vanessa pushed two bowls of noodles onto the coffee table. "You two should eat. You look like death."

"What about me?" asked Charles.

"I don’t know who the hell you are," she said. "Get your own spicy noodles."

I eyed the broth, which was approximately the color of lava. "Is this going to kill me faster than Uncle Richard?"

"Only one way to find out."

I took a tentative sip. Fire exploded across my tongue, and I wheezed.

Nathan smirked. "She made it extra spicy. For your health."

"Hate you," I coughed.

Vanessa grinned.

The moment of normalcy was nice. Almost made me forget that we were currently fugitives hiding out in a cabin.

Then the window shattered.

Glass rained down as a bullet buried itself in the wall behind us.

Chaos erupted.

Leo yanked me off the stool, shoving me behind the kitchen island. Charles was already moving, gun drawn, as Nathan pulled Vanessa down beside us.

"Uncle Richard’s men," Leo gritted out, peering over the counter. Another shot rang out, splintering the wood near his head.

"Okay," Vanessa said. "New plan."